


Nighttime Ambush

by AmISam



Series: Dankest Shorts [2]
Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Does This Even Count As Smut?, M/M, i dunno but I'm going to hell for it regardless, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-03 03:25:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13332471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmISam/pseuds/AmISam
Summary: It should have been a quiet evening - the dungeon had been cleared and the next day would see them returning to the Hamlet. But, such simple pleasures really can't be expected for people like the Heir, because that wasn't how things worked.All they wanted was to get a good night's sleep in preparation for heading out come morning. What they got instead was a night spent listening to two of their teammates go at it like a pair of dogs in heat. But fear not, because they weren't alone in their suffering; the Occultist happened to be a light sleeper, too.





	Nighttime Ambush

**Author's Note:**

> As most of the Flagellant's barks revolve around pain and punishment, I sorta had to improvise when it came to things not in those areas. He strikes me as the kinda guy who talks all high and mighty for the most part, being the religious type, so I went with that. It's a little iffy, but whatever, there's not much of it anyway.

"Let's plan on being up as early as possible tomorrow - the sooner we get out of here the better. Understand?"

The four other figures around the campfire nodded in agreement, likely just as eager to return to the Hamlet as the Heir. After a long trek spent murdering countless fishmen in the Cove, they were all ready to get out of the stinking place. While the Hamlet didn't exactly smell like roses - being surrounded by cursed and rotting lands did that to a town - it certainly smelled a great deal better than the Cove, which eternally reeked of dead fish. The Heir didn't think they'd ever be able to stomach seafood ever again.

Too tired for any further socialization, there was little talk as the five of them disbanded to prepare for bed. Bedrolls were spread out around the crackling fire, armor was partially removed to achieve something close to comfort, and weapons were unsheathed and placed within arm's reach of their owner, just in case. The Heir was fairly sure they'd cleared out this branch of the Cove, but nobody was taking any chances, not so close to heading home. The last thing any of them wanted was an ambush in the dead of night.

Sitting down on their bedroll, the Heir looked across the fire to where Alhazred and Junia were settling down themselves, then to their left and right at Tardif and Damian respectively. This was their first time taking this particular group out, and shockingly, it hadn't gone nearly as bad as they'd feared. Junia and the Occultist butted heads from time to time, but not horribly so, and Damian had been surprisingly good-tempered throughout the trip, as opposed to his usual habit of screaming inappropriate things in the heat of battle. And the Heir would even swear they heard Tardif let out an actual, genuine chuckle at one point, in response to some god-awful pun of Alhazred's involving the lack of "pacifishts" in the Cove. It was like an early birthday gift from the heavens. Throw in all the extra loot they'd garnered, even without Katharine's keen eyes with them, and the Heir was starting to wonder if they'd died at one point and all this was the afterlife where things actually worked out. But then they remembered having no less than four thralls explode into bile and sludge on them, and the Heir was quickly assured they were still living. Sadly. 

Reclining onto their back, eyelids already feeling heavy, the Heir shifted to get comfortable. They quickly glanced to the side, just to make sure their dagger was still with them, before closing their eyes and allowing the crackle of the fire to lull them to sleep. 

They were awoken by the sound of gentle footsteps. Their eyes slowly batted open, fighting the haze of sleep to look for attackers. The fire had faded to just faint embers, illuminating only their immediate surroundings, and as the Heir sat up and looked around they found they could see nothing moving in the shadows around them. They frowned, the footsteps had stopped, but they could have sworn they had heard them just seconds ago. Glancing over at the others, the Heir spotted Alhazred and Junia still dozing away, but when they looked to where the Bounty Hunter and Flagellant's bedrolls were, the Heir's eyes widened to find them empty.

"Where..." They muttered under their breath, brows furrowed. Just one gone they could maybe reason as someone going to use the restroom, but two? It seemed unlikely it was a bathroom break.

Suddenly, the Heir heard a faint voice, some ways off in the darkness.

"The hell are ya? Can't see shit in this dark..."

As rarely as the man spoke, the Heir still recognized the voice as Tardif's. Just as they were wondering who he was speaking to, another voice answered back.

"I'm over here, against the wall."

It was Damian, the Flagellant, which made both men accounted for, but did nothing to help the Heir understand what they were doing up. They strained their ears to listen further, curiosity overruling the nagging notion that it was rude to eavesdrop.

"I can't bloody see the wall, dammit. Hold out yer arm or somethin'." Tardif was saying, to which there was perhaps some sort of huff or sign from the Flagellant.

"This way." Damian replied, a little impatiently. The pair must have found one another, for Damian went on, "See, I'm right here."

"Why couldn't we have done this when there was actually some light?" Tardif said sourly.

"You're the one who wanted darkness."

"Hmm. Let's just go already, gotta be up early in the morning."

"Very well." The Flagellant's voice had taken on that husky edge that it tended to develop when the man was getting a little _too_ into a fight, and realization suddenly hit the Heir like a ton of bricks.

 _Oh sweet heavens..._ They thought, flashing back to that time in the brothel. _Not again._

The shuffling of clothes followed as the Heir laid back down and stared up into the darkness above them, trying to focus on anything other than the two men grunting and groaning a little ways off. It was at that moment that their Heir noticed motion from across the remains of the fire. It was the Occulist, rousing from his own sleep. The Heir grimaced in advance, knowing what must have woken him. Amazingly, Junia remained blissfully asleep, oblivious to what was occurring, and the Heir envied the woman.

Looking back to Alhazred, the Heir could see in the faint light as a progression of emotions ran across his bearded features. First came confusion, as expected, then understanding, followed by shock, cumulating in an expression of mortification. The Heir was surprised to see how quickly he had realized what was going on, but the current state of things was a far more pressing concern. Alhazred looked around, spotting the empty bedrolls of Tardif and Damian, and his eyes inevitably met the Heir's. The look they shared was one of mutual agony, and while the two of them were not particularly close, there was a peculiar sort of bond formed from the awful thing they were both hearing.

Speaking of which, the sounds had only gotten louder, with grunts, smacks, and moans of "Faster!" resounding throughout the room. How either of the two men thought they were in a private space was beyond the Heir. And yet, while Alhazred and the Heir were crawling in their skins with discomfort, Junia was still sound asleep, with not even a twitch in reaction to the ruckus. _How does she do it?_ The Heir wondered. 

At the sound of one particularly loud moan from the Flagellant, the Heir got to wondering how he and the Bounty Hunter even got together in the first place. Damian was a fanatically devout man who whipped himself for spiritual gain, while Tardif was a stoic atheist who delighted in money and violence. The two's areas of interests did not seem to overlap, and yet there they were, casually going at one another in the shadows like it was routine. But then again, they'd seen a similar situation go down with Dismas and Reynauld, so perhaps it was more common than they'd thought?

Regardless, things were going to be interesting come the morning.

Eventually, with a pair of groans, one low and the other high, things seemed to come to a conclusion, prompting relieved sighs from both the Heir and Occultist. But perhaps their sighs had been just a little too loud, because a particular party across the room happened to hear them.

"Huh?" Came Tardif's voice. "You hear that?" He asked Damian quietly.

Both the Heir and the Occultist froze. _Oh shit._ Was all the Heir could think.

"Hear what?" Damian replied, copying the Bounty Hunter's lowered voice.

"I think someone's awake."

"I doubt it."

"Let's just get back. Quietly."

The Heir glanced over at Alhazred and saw that the man had closed his eyes, feigning sleep. Quickly, they did the same, trying to slow their breathing and appear asleep as well. There was the sound of footsteps approaching, followed by what they presumed was the sound of the pair returning to their bedrolls. Silence returned to the room then, but try as they might, the Heir could not will themselves back to sleep.

They wound up tossing and turning until what they sensed was morning's arrival. There was no sunlight in this part of the Cove, so it was more of a guess, but they could hear the others' natural clocks waking them up. It wasn't until they heard someone stoking the fire back into a gentle blaze that they rolled onto their side with a yawn and cracked their tired eyes open. Tardif was the one tending to the fire, his heavy mask already back in place, and the Heir found they couldn't look at the man.

As the rest of the party slowly got up and packed their things away, the Heir managed to sit up and start preparing to leave as well, avoiding eye contact with anyone. They were all quiet as they went about their preparations, until at last, as everyone was shouldering their packs and gathering their weapons, Junia spoke up.

"You are all awfully quiet." She said.

The response from Tardif was just a grunt, and Damian just frowned. At least the two of them were back to usual. The Heir only offered her a shrug.

Then, out of nowhere, Alhazred replied, "I didn't sleep too well last night, unfortunately. I fear we may have been a bit too close to some breeding nest for the beasts here." He shuddered dramatically, and the Heir quickly looked to see Tardif and Damian freeze. While they were shocked by the Occultist's comment, the way the Bounty Hunter and Flagellant's heads whipped towards one another was enough to bring a slight grin to the Heir's features.

"Did we?" Junia asked, unaware of the situation. "I didn't notice."

"It's hardly anything to get excited about." Alhazred went on, "Just beasts rutting in the dark like savages."

It took all of the Heir's self-control to avoid losing their cool right there. Meanwhile, Tardif and Damian were adamantly looking everywhere but at each other now, and while the Bounty Hunter's face was hidden behind his mask, enough of Damian's was visible beneath his hood to tell that the man was blushing as bright as a tomato. It was satisfying in a way, and the Heir smirked at Alhazred, who merely winked.

Junia had missed all of this and just said, "Oh well. Shall we get going then?"

"Indeed." The Heir replied, reaching for the torch she was extending to them. "Back to the Hamlet we go."

**Author's Note:**

> I spent a good deal of time on that "pacifishts" pun.


End file.
